“I have lived before….”

If you heard someone say this, what would you think? That they were deluded, mad or just a bit strange?

I used to be quite agnostic about the idea of Past Lives until I visited a healer to try and get at some of the causes of my persistent and life long depression. I took a friend with me, and was pretty unconcerned about the whole deal really. I’ve worked with various healing systems over the years; indeed, I have worked as a healer myself. I do firmly believe that it is possible to transmit healing using the hands and by prayer.

However, I really wasn’t prepared for what happened.

Without warning or without any sort of suggestion from the healer (he’s actualy quite a famous chap, in this field, and well-respected) I began to relive a previous death. It was as spontaneous as that. One minute I am sitting relaxing on the couch, my friend Claire sitting with me and holding my hand. The next, I am in a filthy dugout amid the trenches circa 1916; I can feel the rough serge of my uniform trousers rubbing as I run for the doorway. I can hear the pounding of distant guns and I know that there’s a shell heading this way. Other soldiers are standing and sitting around, faces pale and blank and scared, but I don’t make it to the door before the shell hits.

I lose consciousness and wake to darkness and intolerable pain. I’m lying pinned to the mud, a beam or something from the roof holding me down. I can’t feel my legs any more, and my head is a mess. I can just about move one arm and I bring it to my head. It feels all wrong. Parts of my skull are missing. I can feel my own brain. I vomit. I know I am dying. I can hear groans in the darkness. Others are lying there injured and dying too. I have a thought I should speak to them but the words won’t come. Then I dip in and out of consciousness, wanting to be rescued, but knowing I won’t be and that’s it for me. I’m half conscious when the final shell hits and blows us into the mud.

I wake sobbing on the couch. I’ve been narrating what’s happened as I saw it in my head. I am distraught. I feel I have failed my men; I should have shouted, got them out, anything. In the mud of the Somme, my bones and flesh mingle with theirs; we have no grave but the mud, like so many from that conflict.

The healer talks, his voice soothing. My friend holds my hand still as if she’ll never let go.

I move forward. I return to my 20th century body and come back properly, cried out and with a pounding headache. The healer tells me my ordeal is over, that that life is gone. I argue. The souls of the others are not at rest; I can’t rest till they do because I failed them. The fact that there was nothing I could ever have done is irrelevant to the man I once was(and inside I still am).

That night, I headed to bed and sat brushing my hair at the mirror and watched in astonishment as my face changed. I saw my last face, the young soldier, a junior officer, and watched as it melted into another and another and another. The faces melted and merged and changed, through centuries and millenia. I saw my face back into almost prehistory before I could take in how old my soul is.

That night I dreamed. I dreamed of a great swimming pool, filled with warm and healing waters. I swam in it and the others who swam there were my old comrades, and as they swam, they were restored. I looked at my body in the dream and saw it change as my face had changed, and knew I was becoming something else. I climbed reluctantly out and said goodbye to my old friends and woke in my own bed, feeling strange but cleansed and renewed.    

I know some will read and think, “She’s insane!” but I’ll tell you something more. That was a turning point for me. I still suffer from depression. But it no longer feels random. It feels as if it’s part of a long life and that those memories will always pop through. I’ve had other flashbacks to other lives. It makes some sort of sense of how I feel about a lot of things, including World War 1. I’ve always wept at the Two Minute silence even before this exeprience. I became hysterical when I first saw the fourth and final series of Blackadder(a comedy series set in the trenches of the Somme) which was before I had this past life recall. A couple of years ago I also discovered that my great uncle died on the Somme in 1916. However you choose to interpret my experience (genuine past life recall, or the product of a vivid or even deranged imagination) it had a powerful and lasting effect on me.

So, I say to you,

“I have lived before….”

(please take time to listen to the Youtube clip linked below; I usually cry when I hear this song)


31 thoughts on ““I have lived before….”

  1. Pingback: Hyper Inking « Sitting Pugs: Sports Movies

  2. I became hysterical when I first saw the fourth and final series of Blackadder (a comedy series set in the trenches of the Somme) which was before I had this past life recall. A couple of years ago I also discovered that my great uncle died on the Somme in 1916.

    Were there ever any unanswered questions regarding your great uncle’s death?

    I don’t believe in multi-cellular life on other planets, but pretty much everything else that people believe in without “proof,” I wouldn’t be so quick to discount. I’m convinced I a was a man in a past life, somebody who was nearly the opposite of who I am.


    • Pugs, I know almost nothing about him. In fact I didn’t even know he existed at all until about four or five years ago when my dad was doing family research. He belonged to the 1st Royal Cheshire regiment and died aged 19. He was the older brother of my paternal grandmother; late last year I asked my dad if there were any photos of Alex(my great uncle) and he didn’t think there were but about a week later, my dad’s cousin sent some photos from his archive of family photos which included a photo of Alex with my grandfather. It appears they were best freinds and joined together; my father had been unaware of his father’s war service. My grandfather was a little older, and was a sergeant. I also have a picture of their platoon(?). After the war, and Alex’s death (which again I know nothing about) my grandfather married Alex’s sister.
      I have wondered if my memory is a race memory but I was quite sure I was a junior officer, and Alex was only a private soldier. he may have been under my command. We’ll never know, I guess.
      I have been a soldier a number of times. It may be partly why I feel more masculine in many respects than I do feminine.
      I think you’re probably right about your past life, too.


      • That’s amazing. While most people stumble upon old photographs, which then leads to a few phone calls and emails and a trip to the local library and the discovery of the story behind those photographs, you seem to have found the story first.


      • The more I’ve thought about this entry and others’ comments, the more I wonder if the false memories I’ve been having for years may not be literal day-dreaming (as opposed to night time dreaming) but of memories that belong to a past life or my current doppelganger.

        Sure, I’ll entertain the idea that I’m unwilling to reconcile my own contradictory desires and anxieties (the running quibble between the Superego and the Id), and find it a lot easier and more comfortable to project unwanted desires onto a surrogate.

        Nevertheless, I do have these mind’s eye projections of places that I’ve never seen before. I refuse to continue believing it’s because I walk through Crate & Barrel too often.

        Furthermore, I’ve never been in a relationship, never considered being in one, never had to reject someone’s affections, and yet there are times when I feel as if there was someone there…to be had…that I have.

        Etrange, etrange.


  3. Viv, what a fascinating, extraordinary experience you had! I’m glad that things turned around after that and you’re no longer feeling random depressions.
    With experiences like these ones, I don’t think it matters if anybody else believes them or not, or what other people think of them, if they help you and if ‘you’ believe them, than they are your truth and they don’t have to be anyone else’s… 🙂
    I’m uncertain whether if I have lived before or if I believe I had a life before this one; that’s just on my long “ things I don’t know but hoping to find out” list.


    • Oh I still get random depressions. I meant that I no longer feel that it’s a random event; maybe I just don’t understand where it came from, but I know it has a cause somehere.
      The really bizarre thing is I have an area of scarring across my head that I have had my whole life and my mum cannot tell me how I came by it; it’s where my head was sliced open by the shrapnel from the shell that blew the dugout up…
      I used to be desperately afraid of thunder before this experience; now I just dislike it.
      as you say, truth or not, it’s my truth.


    • It’s an interesting thought, Phil, but I have yet to see any convincing explanations of the mechanisms whereby memories can be transmitted epigenetically. I keep an open mind, though.
      thanks for visiting and commenting.


  4. Viv,
    All I can saw is Wow, what an experience! Thanks for sharing it with us. I can’t say that I’ve had that happen to me, but have had a few strange things happen. One time in my dream I saw and heard an elderly man, a teacher, writing on a classroom blackboard and speaking to the class in French. I woke up speaking French — and I didn’t speak any French. Since that time I’ve learned a tiny bit. That dream happened in the late 1990s. How strange is that. That’s all I’ll say here. Don’t doubt your experience. Take care, A.


    • Hiya,
      I don’t doubt it as such; I just seek the meaning and explanation.
      Yours is also a very special experience.Some dreams we are actually remote viewing; I have done it a large number of times. Sometimes its about past lives too.
      I speak fair French, though it is rusty as I don’t get over often enough or for long enough; though this year I will be in Paris at least three times.
      good to see you here again!


  5. I must admit this is a striking story. I’ve never known anyone who’s had such an experience before. I certainly have no proof that I’ve lived before but I’m inclined to believe it. I often see myself as a completely different person in my dreams. I mean completely different from who I am now, but it’s pretty much the same character in the dreams. I’m not sure if that is a recollection form a past life or just a fantasy because it is close to who I would like to be.
    Apart from that, years ago, I was told by a numerologist, who knew nothing at all about me but had just made some calculations based on my name and date of birth, that in my previous life I was an abominable person, a cruel and violent man. Therefore, she said, it was my karma now to pay for the wrong I had done and help others and sacrifice myself to their welfare all my life. She also added, “The sooner you put up with it, the better. The more you try to resist it, the longer you will suffer.” At the time she said that it was extremely unnerving. Not long before that, I had made a conscious decision to stop caring for others and become more concerned about myself. I was annoyed and mad at her, but the truth is whatever I do, I always end up in some situation where I have to help people who don’t really mean much to me. What kind of a coincidence could that be?


    • This is a very remarkable story in itself, Shiona. I can’t somehow imagine that you ever might have been that sort of person but who knows? Anyway, being caring and supportive of others, regardless of karmic issues is a good thing but you do need to take care of yourself too.


      • I do, I try to. But I go through the same cycles again and again… Every time I start feeling used and taken for granted and therefore decide that from then on I’ll always put myself first, I become terribly miserable and depressed. And it’s only when I get over it and come back to my usual loving and giving self that I can feel happy again. That’s why I started to believe in what I was told. Otherwise I used to be very skeptical about past lives, afterlife, reincarnation, etc. I’m still not a firm believer. I’m rather confused…



      • Join the club; I am also confused.
        I think it’s about finding a middle way, of caring for others but not forgetting ourselves. The words of Jesus said to Love our neighbour AS ourselves, after all!


  6. Hi Viv,

    I don’t know. Past lives, to me, have been the stuff of stories. I am not a religious person, neither am I a spiritual person – so I don’t know. I am a religious and a spiritual agnostic. I prefer not to question – I prefer to accept what happens to me as a either a random or a directed event, as the case may be. But I do accept the fact that our realities are shaped by our experiences – my reality is the truth for me; and so is yours for you.

    I should say that I was moved by your post. Your descriptions are so vivid…I could’ve been lying near you in that mud-pit…watching everything that was happening…



    • You are right: my reality is the truth for me and so is yours for you.
      I probably question more than almost anyone I know (with the possible exception of J) but I think that it’s borne of real frustration at not being able to understand and accept the status quo. We’re all different, I guess.
      Anyway, I am glad you were moved by the post. I didn’t mention that my friend Claire was almost crying (and she is a tough lady) at my descriptions or that she was incredibly supportive over the next few weeks too, as I sought to undersatdn it all.


  7. I have never experienced a past life regression but I am sure I have lived before. I don’t know how, but I sense it. I also have this feeling that each life has a purpose, a lesson to be learned.


  8. I’m not laughing. Either with the idea of a past live, or the guilt a military officer feels for any men injured while in his command.

    I regressed to a lowly lord of a manor visiting his peasant stock, spreading good cheer and encouragement during a past life recall. I also saw my self get wounded in the gut and die near the field of battle. (I have stomach problems today.)

    I also served as a combat infantry platoon leader in Vietnam, and while no one died under my command, I still carry the guilt for not protecting those that were injured as a result of war.

    michael j

    aka contoveros


    • It’s not uncommon to be able to trace ongoing illness to injuries in previous lives.
      I’d like to hear more of your story! I also must remember to blogroll you; been remiss there, sorry….


  9. I’ve never experienced past life regression but keep an open mind. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I’ve lived before and the idea of it makes more sense of my life experiences to me. Your account is extraordinary, powerful and moving. I have always found anything to do with WW1 deeply upsetting; the traumas suffered on such a mass scale are just heartbreaking. I admire your courage in posting about your experience.


    • Thank you.
      I had another experience some months later, seeing the same healer, where I went back to a further time. I was a Saxon slave, and was punished for running away by having my foot nailed to the floor. Again, it made sense of certain things.


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